Conference
by Canadino
Summary: I see England, I see France...and I don't see a very happy parent-teacher conference. AU, slight France/England


**Disclaimer: If Axis Powers Hetalia were mine, I wouldn't need to write fanfics. If any of these songs were mine, I wouldn't be writing fanfics.**

Background music: --

**Minimal fluff 09!**

Hey, all! Canadino here, formerly mankinfan. I hope you like my first fic under my new name!

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Conference

Arthur Kirkland pushed the front doors of the elementary school open, pulling his reluctant son along. He almost sighed exasperatedly about the fact of being there, but he was a parent, and parents had responsibilities. The two passed walls of children's artwork, finger paintings and paper cuttings alike. Papers were hung displaying a student's proficiency (or lack thereof) in a certain subject. The explosion of primary colors was shocking and Arthur could feel his head pound as he passed each bright red.

"We passed my classroom."

"Thank you for telling me now." Backpedaling, Arthur pulled his still devious-looking second grader along until they stood in the doorway of the classroom. The teacher, a young woman who insisted her students call her Elizavita instead of the traditional Ms. So-and-so, glanced at the door, smiling briefly at the two before nodding toward the chairs behind them. She was still talking to the parent before them. Arthur turned to see a small row of colored chairs sitting out in the hallway, children-sized.

"It's my seat!" The boy pulled his hand out of Arthur's grasp and ran up to a blue chair. "I carved my name in it." Pointing, Arthur walked up to see 'Alfred F. Jones' on the seat, carved with what looked like a mechanical pencil or another sharp edge.

"Alfred, what have I told you about ruining public property?" He would get over the fact his son liked to refer to himself as a completely separate entity, refusing to use the last name 'Kirkland' and going off by himself as if he had no family. If it floated his kid's boat, he'd let Alfred float away. Breaking the rules was a completely different story.

Alfred pouted, sticking out his bottom lip. "But then when we put our chairs together, how will I know which one is mine?"

"You don't have to keep the same chair. You're moving to a different classroom next year."

"I gotta keep track of what chair I have now!" Alfred insisted, plopping down on his marked blue chair. Arthur sighed, giving up as he sank down next to his son in a bright yellow chair. It was too small and he felt as if he was falling off the side.

"Before your teacher tells me, what exactly is the 'problem' she referred to on the phone?"

"Um…" Alfred barely looked deep in thought as he swung his legs back and forth, staring up at the ceiling. "I dunno!"

"Alfred," Arthur said warningly. Being kind with Alfred wasn't a reliable tactic; discipline, it seemed, got into the boy's head better.

"Alright, alright. I was fighting with another kid, okay?"

Arthur sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Alfred, what am I going to do with you?"

"I want hamburger for dinner tonight."

Before Arthur could scold his son for disobeying classroom rules, a strange sound echoed through the hallways. Although the whole school was open for parent-teacher conference, this sound was different from the chatters between parent and child going on in other hallways. It sounded like a song.

"_Alouette, gentille allouette…Alouette, je te plumerai." _The song sounded clearly through the halls, sung by a deep, low voice accompanied by a childish higher one. Arthur felt shudders creep down his spine and he covered his face with a hand, hoping against all hopes the singer was not heading in their direction. He ignored Alfred, who pulled at him asking him if he was sick and if they should just go home now.

"_Je te plumerai la tete," _the deep voice sang, echoed by the smaller voice. "_Et la tete, alouette, ooh!" _Both voices dissolved in laughter, a nice husky chuckle from the older voice and giggles from the younger. Arthur's fears were realized as he peeked through his fingers and sure enough, a man with shoulder length dirty blonde hair was walking up to them with a boy on his arm. The boy was clutching a white stuffed bear.

"Well, what do we have here?" There was no hiding the amusement in the man's voice. Arthur felt Alfred fidget next to him.

"Francis," Arthur said levelly, taking his hand off his face and regaining his composure. Francis merely nodded, sitting one seat away from Arthur and leaving his son to sit on his lap despite the number of empty seats available.

"Hey Matthew," Alfred called amiably, looking around Arthur.

"Hi, Alfred," Matthew murmured, leaning against Francis.

"Hey mommy," Alfred said loudly, poking at Arthur. "How do you know Matty's dad?"

Francis made no effort to stifle his laughter, and even Matthew smiled, retaining a bit more manners than his father. Arthur glared at Alfred, who stared up at him innocently. "I'm not your mother, Alfred," he reminded, a hint of a threat in his voice.

"But mommies cook and clean and raise their kids, although you're kind of bad at all of them. What else should I call you?" Alfred looked confused.

"I'm your dad." Arthur shot Alfred a 'we'll-talk-about-this-at-home' look before rushing on before the chatterbox could say anything else embarrassing. "And your friend's father and I were friends back in college."

"Friends hardly gives it justice," Francis smirked, keeping an arm around Matthew. "We barely got along that well."

"And I wonder why that was," Arthur said, barely containing his dislike as he turned back to Francis. "And look. You were always jealous of my cultured self. Look, you've even made your kid look like mine." Leaning back to fully expose Alfred, who blinked confusedly, Arthur crossed his arms and smirked back, equally snarky.

"Who's to say it's not the other way around?" Francis scoffed, running a hand through Matthew's hair. "But your lowly boy could never be like Mathieu. I raise my children better than any Englishman could."

"You…"

"Daddy…" Matthew tugged at his father's collar, instantly getting the man's attention. "You can't say those things to your friend."

"It's okay, Mathieu," Francis assured, holding his son tight. "You can say whatever you want to people you don't like. It's completely justified."

"What are you teaching your son!"

"Mommy!" Alfred shouted, pulling on Arthur's sleeve. "You should be more like Matty's dad!"

"I told you I'm not your mother!"

Before an argument could break out, the previous parent appeared at the doorway, biding Elizavita farewell as he ushered his children out of the room. Francis seemed to recognize the dark curly-haired man attending to a pair of twins; one was friendly-looking and being held by him and the other had a look daring anyone to get in his way, and this twin was holding the man's hand. "Oh! Antonio! Are those Rome's boys?"

Antonio looked around before spotting Francis. "Hey, Francis! Yep, these are the twins. Rome couldn't make it this time so he sent the babysitter to take care of things. Romano, don't kick up dirt." Pulling on the standing twin's hand so he didn't wander off, Antonio faced Francis again. "So you need me for any extra hours this week?"

"No, not this week." Francis smiled. "You should get those two home before they cause another ruckus."

Antonio cocked his head, rolling his eyes. "They're a handful, but I can control them. I already told Romano he can't just knock things over because he doesn't like them. Isn't that right, Romano?" Turning to the twin standing next to him, Antonio's face turned completely soft, as if he were talking to his own child.

"I wanna go home now, dammit!" The twin, a hot tempered boy named Romano, kicked Antonio in the shin and started stomping down the hall, shooting a glare at Alfred. "And steal my crayons again, Alfred, and I'll kill you."

"I didn't take them!" Alfred yelped, starting to jump from his seat when Arthur grabbed his collar and pulled him back in the chair.

"Romano," the twin being held called. "Don't kick people."

"I'm gonna push Ludwig out the window on Monday!" Romano shouted. "So shut up, Feliciano."

"Don't push Ludwig out the window," Feliciano cried, starting to tear up. Antonio quickly pat him on the back, rushing to take Romano's hand as he started to the door, trying to do damage control. Romano was resisting, still shouting as they receded down the hallway, Feliciano's sobs echoing as well. Arthur blinked, turning back to Francis.

"You know him?"

"Yeah. He's a college kid who works as a part-time florist at my shop. He baby-sits for this guy; those twins you just saw."

"I didn't steal Romano's crayons," Alfred reminded Arthur, as if it was the big issue at hand.

Elizavita leaned out the doorway, smiling at the two sets of parent and son. "Hello there, Alfred, Matthew! Your turns are coming up next, but there's someone before you. Have either of you seen Ludwig?"

Both boys shook their heads. As Elizavita was about to turn back into the classroom, there was a loud screeching of heels rubbing against the polished floor as a man sprinted up the hallway, pulling a boy behind him. "I'm here!" the man shouted, an albino with flashing red eyes. "I'm here!"

"I told you to hurry up," the boy next to him muttered, a blonde with slicked back hair. He scowled up at the albino man, who smacked him across the head.

"Hey, we don't hit in this classroom," Elizavita warned, before a smile graced her face and she bent down to talk to the boy. "Ludwig. How are you tonight?"

"It would have been better if dad didn't sit around watching television until five minutes before," Ludwig explained. "Otherwise, it was good."

"Always late, eh, Gilbert?" Francis called, chuckling. Gilbert turned, before his face lit up. "Francis! That Matthew?"

"_Oui_. Say hello, Matthew."

"Hi," Matthew said quietly. "Hi, Ludwig." Ludwig glanced at him before looking up at his father.

"Let's begin the conference then," Elizavita said, a strained smile on her face as she turned back to Gilbert. "And I'm sorry, I must decline any dates you will offer this time around. I keep reminding you, I have a boyfriend."

"Forget that old fart," Gilbert said, seeming to forget the fact that his son was standing next to him and he was flirting with his teacher. "I'm much better than that anal little piano freak…"

"We're here to discuss Ludwig's progress in second grade!" Elizavita interrupted, a dangerous smile on her face. "So let's discuss!" Venom practically dripping from her words, she beckoned them into the classroom.

"You seem to know every parent in this place," Arthur mused as Gilbert gave Francis a desperate look. Alfred had been distracted by a fly and was currently watching it.

"I, unlike you, have always been surrounded by a massive group of friends," Francis replied, sounding sooty. "You, on the other hand, have always been friendless."

"Better friendless than a pervert," Arthur shot back.

"A pervert? You don't say! You weren't calling me a pervert on March 25th five years ago, at eleven-thirty six back in that dorm room…"

"That was five years ago!" Arthur shouted, his face turning red. "And I would thank you to stop documentating all your hits since grade school!"

"Of course, I wasn't really the pervert, after finding all those pornos under your bed when you were asleep…"

"We are in the presence of _children_," Arthur hissed, his face flushing more. Matthew stared blankly at him as if he hadn't heard anything and Alfred was now reaching for the fly, his ears closed to anything adult-related.

"I seem to recall," Francis started again, "that you had a kink for incestuous relationships, didn't you? You aren't going to be planning to have an off-color thing with your Alfred, are you?"

"Shut up!" Alfred didn't even turn at the mention of his name, now preoccupied with the skid marks left by Gilbert. "I don't even want to know what _you've_ been teaching your boy!"

"On the contrary!" Francis cried. "My Mathieu is a very accomplished boy! He's very mature for his age and he's my pride and joy!" Nuzzling his son, Francis stared at Arthur, obviously confident of his superior child-rearing skills.

"I hardly think second graders should be carrying around stuffed toys," Arthur shot back, glaring at the white bear. Alfred trotted up to him, nodding as he added, "Matty carries it around with him all the time! He calls it Kumajirou! Weird, right, mommy?"

"Don't you listen to those rude boys, Mathieu," Francis soothed, covering Matthew's ears. "They don't understand the culture of people such as us. We will show them there's more to a well-rounded person besides _pride_."

"Right, I've got a bloody excess of _pride_," Arthur spat, glaring daggers at Francis, still soothing an oblivious Matthew. "I wouldn't be surprised if you had a little affair with your boy."

"I would never dare anything like that!" Francis protested. "Unless, of course, it is what Mathieu wants…"

"Mommy, what's an affair?"

"You are a sick, bloody wanker, Francis! You are in no position to be raising children!"

"Well, then, Ludwig, you're doing very nicely!" Elizavita was showing Gilbert and Ludwig to the door, as Arthur and Francis instantly silenced. Glancing at the nonchalant parents, Elizavita turned her attention back to Ludwig. "Is there any other concerns you have about second grade?"

"Yes. Can you tell Feliciano's brother to stop trying to push me out the window?"

"Oh yes, Romano…I've had a talk with him already. I think he's just jealous that his brother's friends with you, Ludwig! Don't worry about it. I'll scold him if he tries that again." Straightening up, Elizavita politely held out a hand to Gilbert. "Well, you have a magnificent child. You have done well."

"Of course." Gilbert took her hand and held it longer than necessary. "Now, if you're free next Friday…"

"Good _bye_, you two," Elizavita said crisply, pulling her hand away. Gilbert lingered for a moment before Ludwig sighed loudly and pulled his father away. Taking a breath, the pretty teacher finally turned to the remaining parents. "Now…Alfred, Matthew, I'm ready to see you two next! Please come in together."

Arthur glowered at Francis, who pretended not to notice as he held Matthew's hand to the classroom. There were two seats in front of the teacher's desk and Elizavita quickly rushed to pull up two more as Francis charmingly assisted. Arthur felt a vein on his forehead twitch.

"Matthew's dad is weird, isn't he?" Alfred whispered, poking his nose into Arthur's cheek.

"Plenty weird," Arthur whispered, feeling a twisted kind of glad he was agreeing with his son on something.

"Alright you two! Mr. Kirkland, Mr. Bonnefoy, I hope you are very proud of your sons, because they are very nice children! Alfred gets along with almost everyone and he loves to help out! Matthew is a wonderful listener and he is very intelligent. They are obviously passing second grade currently."

"I'm glad to hear it, Ms. Elizavita," Francis said smoothly, as Arthur nodded.

"However…I wanted to talk to the both of you. If you are not aware, a fight happened in my class two days ago. Alfred and Matthew were hitting each other in the reading corner." Elizavita gestured toward the small bookshelves surrounded by beanbags.

"Matthew?" Francis turned to his son, who looked away and hugged his bear. "Well, what caused the problem?"

"Apparently," Elizavita said, turning to Alfred, "Alfred here was trying to read a book about superheroes when Matthew bumped into him trying to reach for another book. Now I'm not saying a full-frontal confrontation happened, but maybe they can explain better…"

"Matty hit me!" Alfred shouted. "I was trying to read and he just pushed me out of the way!"

"Well, maybe if you weren't just standing in the middle of the corner, I wouldn't have, eh?" Matthew shot back, his voice sounding scathing against his previously shown quiet demeanor. "People have to get through, you know!"

"I wasn't just standing there. I was gonna sit down!"

"Then you should have sit down, you stupid hero wannabe!" Elizavita gasped. She was about to reprimand Matthew when Alfred shot back equally rudely.

"At least I'm not having an affair with _my_ daddy!"

There was a strangled silence as Elizavita stared into space, looking preoccupied. "Boys," she said finally, slowly, "what do I say about yelling in the classroom?"

"Indoor voices," both boys droned.

"Right. Now, I think the problem comes from what they've been taught to do. Matthew is not one to cause problems, but he does have…a way with hurting feelings when he wants to. And this is obviously not the first time Alfred has said inappropriate things like that. So," Elizavita sighed, bringing her hands together and looking at Francis and Arthur, "the only thing we can do is hope that the parents are showing a good example." She nodded knowingly, cocking her head to the door. "As much as I support a good argument – it encourages children to think outside the box – I do not believe it is a positive suggestion to say whatever you want to someone else, _regardless_ of if you like that person or not."

Matthew was sulking to himself, hugging Kumajirou as Francis looked a bit sheepish. Alfred had already gotten disinterested in the conversation, studying the posters above Elizavita's desk. Arthur groaned, rubbing his forehead with a hand.

He'd thought college was bad, but it seemed elementary school could also bite you on the ass.

Pardon his French.

Owari

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Notes: Um, I hope you like. I don't think either England or France should really be having children, especially with their own problems. Hungary's a teacher because she's out to scout the boys she should watch over as they get older and become potential boy love match-ups. She should not be around kids either.

As summer is crawling to a close, I will not have as much time on my hands to update. I hope you understand. I will try to attend to my current running fanfics but hiatuses may fly and heads may roll! Until then, please give me some life support with your reviews! I read them all personally myself, no assistances included!


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